Thus far in my travels, I’ve referred to a “we” and “us” without being very clear on who my companions are. Without a doubt, they made the landscape of Yunnan all the more colorful and memorable. Because even with an iPod, the gruelingly long grotty bus rides bumping along country roads can get weary and lonesome.

Until yesterday, I’ve been traveling in a group of seven and at times eight. Five frenchies, (one of whom is technically Ukranian but has been living in Paris for quite some time) plus another Hong Kong drifter like me. It was almost pure luck that I wound up traveling with them. After hopping off the 45 hour long train and about to board ”Knight Bus” (thus named for a) being at night, and b) freakishly similar to Harry Potter.. bunk beds aboard an over night bus) I bumped into Sofiya, one of my friends from Beijing and found that our itineraries coincided almost perfectly. Which in short, is how I found myself (attempting to) speaking french in China for the past week.

It has been an adventure to say the least. I’ve backpacked before but the freedom that you have in China is really amazing．It’s almost too easy. Get off a train and people rush to barter with you to take you into town, to get you settled in, and ask if you want to have a driver for the day. Traveling in a group of our size has meant our budgets have been ridiculously slashed, not to mention the feeling of safety in numbers. My newfound French friends (try to say that five times fast) have taught me a lot about travelling, and I’m all the more anxious to get out and hit the road next semester, and for my remaining time in China. Like my study abroad year in Italy, I got out far too little. And who knows when I’ll ever have the chance to do this again?

It is times like these, (and with such friends) that I find myself in situations like yesterday- a top the Jade Dragon Snow Mountain, 4600 meters above sea level, struggling to breathe and hike up a glacier. Or in ravines twice as deep as the Grand Canyon, taking in the majestic scenery. It’s been an amazing week hitting the road. I didn’t make it to the Tibetan village (been a bit run down with a cold, especially after yesterday’s trek to the glacier) but I’m all the more resolved to carry on with the same boldness I’ve learned from Les Frenchies.

Things I’ll remember most from Yunnan:

1. “Le Lonely” (our Bible, The Lonely Planet)
2. It is never a bad time to speak in an over exaggerated French accent
3. “split split” Robert v. Dalai Lama
4. Jane’s guest house, Tiger Leaping Gorge. Trekking together and wondering if we’d survive
5. “Cacahouete” and other new French words..
6. Way too much Yak
7. Riding horses in the rain. Plus one with a pony.
8. Getting wayyy too high on oxygen. At the wrong times.

Tonight I set off on the Knight Bus once again for Kunming. Spending the day there and then flying back to Shenzhen, hopping the border to Hong Kong, and then catching a flight to Malaysia in the evening. Booyah.

I have less than ten minutes to pound this entry out before we head out for the ice field. So please excuse any typos, lack of wit or otherwise verbal incontinence.

If you’re heading out to Shangri-la in search of paradise, I have only two pieces of advice. First, you might want to adjust your expectations. Second, make sure you get enough rest to stay awake on the bus ride there. Because in my mind, the road winding through the countryside and up the mountain – is as close to paradise as you can get. In Asia. Ok, maybe just China.

The scenes remind me something of Costa Rica, on the way up to Monte Verde, winding through the cloud forest. But better. Instead of an overall mist, the clouds hover just a few feet above the ground. And instead of being sandwiched by the rainforest, the road winds through the side of the mountain, leading straight into a rice-terraced valley, speckled with wildflowers.

Once in Shangri-la, we braved the rain and rode horses in the grasslands, led by the Zhang minority. Ethnic Tibetans in China, but with their own dialect and differences in culture. Consulting “le Lonely” (we’re traveling with five french friends, and have taken to speaking in exaggerated french accents, especially when referring to The Lonely Planet guide) we visited an incredible Tibetan temple, reminiscent of the Potala Palace. This really whet my appetite for visiting the rooftop of the world.

We’re back in Lijiang tonight, where the group is splitting off after visiting the glacier near by (in July? what?!). I’m going to try to get myself up to a Tibetan village tomorrow, about two hour drive away from here, and after this, back on the Knight Bus and off to Kunming. Hooray for 9 hours in cramped (moving) quarters with smokers. Don’t get me started on the smokers.

Sending you all much love from the Ricetrail!

High up in the Tibetan Plateau, the Yangtze river finds its origins and begins the long trek through the mountains, eventually cutting clear across the country. In Chinese, its name is “Jin Sha” or Golden Sand, and it is one of the major rivers in China. In 1966, Chairman Mao swam through its muddy waters in Wuhan. But it is here, at Tiger Leaping Gorge that the Yangtze is at its most magnificient. Legend has it that it’s name derrived from a tiger which, you guessed it, leaped across the gorge in one bound.

If I had known what sheer beauty awaited us as we left Lijiang this morning, I’m sure I would have kicked everyone out of bed several hours earlier, instead of wandering Old Town with Kalash, my D80 Nikon. The hostels in China have so far, been a wonderful experience. But being a relatively light sleeper and one of the dorm-mates leaving at 6AM, I was pretty much up at the break of dawn. At this point, I shall conveniently leave out the part where I get lost amidst the alleys and canals, and only find my way back when one of the dogs at our hostel “finds” me, and like an episode of Lassie, leads me back home.

I’m convinced that by the time I leave China, I will have morphed into an incredible negotiator. Or at least, adept at bargaining. Take for example our departure from Lijiang. Standing in front of the bus station, we bartered with the black cabs, bartered with fellow travellers wanting to tag along, and then bartered with each other for the window seat. The last one, I’ve had plenty of experience.. thanks to an awesome brother. but the point is, nothing gets done with out talky-talk here, and plenty of threatening to walk away.

I currently find myself typing away at Jane’s Guesthouse, after a full day’s hiking, which was really more of climbing than hiking. I wish I somehow had the means of expression that would automatically transport you guys here. To hear the roar of the mighty river, and pounding which you feel through your feet as you get closer to the banks of the river. The Chinglish signs you’ll encounter – evidence of Chinese entrepreneurial ingenuity even in the most remote areas of this amazing country. But most of all, the wonder you feel when you’re dwarfed by opposite rock faces so huge like Atlas, they seem to hold up the sky.

The great bend of the Yangtze, which begins in Tiger Leaping Gorge is a formidable 7 day rafting trip. I was hoping to get the chance to raft at least part of it tomorrow, but it’s looking like this adventure will have to wait. Tomorrow, Shangri-la beckonds.

There are some things you will only ever find in China. And if you ever need a reminder of this, you only need to frequent one of the bathrooms in the old town of  Lijiang, which is currently base camp．China is a place of contradictions, where the west is rapidly and forcefully colliding with the east. As we plough our way to economic development, we still struggle to maintain our cultural identity, or at least a “Chinese” way of doing things. Which is why we end up with squatty-potties equipped with LCD TV screens to entertain you as you go about your business. Really. Now if that isn’t an example of modernization meeting culture shock, I don’t know what is.

Ｉf I can summarize my experience in Lijiang, it would be Venice meets Disneyland. The old town is a UNESCO World Heritage site, and is over 800 years old. The cobblestoned streets are bisected now and then by canals of clear water, kelp and even goldfish. The only thing is, for something that is supposed to date back to the Tang and Song dynasties, it’s awfully… shiny. The ethnic minority group represented here are the Naxi people.　(China is predominantly Han Chinese, including yours truly, but there are 55 ethnic minorities, over half of them reside in Yunnan where I am back packing) The Naxi are closer to Tibetan people in language, dress and ethnicity. And while the photographer in me thrills to see an elderly Naxi in traditional dress, when I encounter them in Old Town, I can’t help but feel like they resemble Disney mascotts on display.

The nice thing is however, is we bartered our way to a real Naxi village, and spent most of the day wandering around amongst them. It reminded me a lot of the Newari village I visited when I was in Nepal. Just walking and shooting. We met a tiny woman who fished out a fistful of sunflower seeds in one hand, and a tiny green notebook in the other – revealing notes from various travellers who had visited her house. She was incredibly warm and welcoming, half-dragging all eight of us to her house, where she shared tea, fruit and biscuits with us. I never ceased to be stunned by the generosity of those who have so little, and the stark contrast of attitudes in us that are blessed with so much.

There is more to tell about how we were smuggled in to an 80 kuai park (per person. highway robbery, I say!) and the antics that ensued. But ’tis getting late, and tomorrow a 2 day trek to Tiger Leaping Gorge awaits. I will be dragging all my photography gear with me, and so help me if I get so exhausted I need to dump clothing and other necessitites, I will drag back 20 gigs of images. There’s BOUND to be something decent burried there. Right???

note: my faithful D80 has since been dubbed the kalashnikov (or just “kalash” for short). So inspired by a line from Lord of War, adapted for photographers. “A weapon all shooters love. An elegantly simple 20.48 ounce amalgamation of forged steel and plastic. It doesn’t break, jam, or overheat. It’ll shoot whether it’s covered in mud or filled with sand. It’s so easy, even a child can use it; and they do.”

Yes, I know it’s been replaced by the D90, and that the D700 is full frame. But it’s my baby. I know that thing like I know the back of my hand, and it will bｅ shot with until I have to  hold the thing together with duct tape, so help me nikon gods.

Until next time, hopefully hailing from the breath taking views of Tiger Leaping Gorge.